Denial Feels So Good
by breakingmedown
Summary: Set some time after both series end. Angel mistakenly runs into Buffy and despite the pain they feel in seeing each other after so long they find themselves working together to kill a demon who has taken from them both.
1. Mistake

"Buffy-" his thoughts froze. He didn't mean to run into her, he had been trying to avoid it. But now she was standing inches in front of him, her face mirroring the shock that must have been present on his, and his hands gripped her shoulders. At first he had meant to steady the stranger he had nearly knocked over, but his hands lingered in a weak attempt to prolong the warmth her skin always produced. Slowly, however, the shock wore off and pain replaced the shock in their gaze. All at once, the feeling of her under his strong hands went from gentle to a blazing fire threatening to destroy him, and his hands dropped instantly.

"Angel," she whispered, painfully aware that his hands were no longer holding her. Her mind sharpened slightly and the anger once again rose to the surface of her emotions, "What are you doing here?"

Immediately he recognized the changes she made when she was around him. Her stance became defensive, her arms folded over her chest, her eyes darkened. Inwardly, he sighed, knowing that this is the relationship they would have as long as he was a vampire and she was the slayer. And as far as he was concerned that meant forever. He did his best to reciprocate her unaffected calm and replied as evenly as he could manage. "Hunting."

"Leave it to you to be cryptic and vague." Same old Angel. Although, she thought sadly, he would always be the same, his features never wavering. Her musings instantly made her acutely aware of the fact she had changed and that she, like all other humans, got older. She shifted her feet and looked away, momentarily self-conscious. "Care to elaborate."

"I'm not sure that it matters." He knew what kind of response that would provoke, but it was true. They hadn't been a part of each other's lives for years and despite the fact her proximity alone was tearing him apart, she had moved on.

"_Not sure that it_ - - - well I'd like to know." He was infuriating. She hadn't seen or heard from him in 5 years. Now he's standing in front of her and he doesn't think it matters. Of course it matters, she thought bitterly. "I think I _deserve_ to know."

"Buffy, I get it, you don't want me here. I didn't want this to happen. I just need to take care of something and I'll leave and you can get on with your life." Her reaction to his blunt words felt like a stake through his heart. No matter how he tried to deal with seeing her, he always managed to hurt her, which was the last thing he ever wanted to do. He could see tears threatening to fall and knew the quicker he left the sooner she'd find peace. "I'm sorry."

He said it with such sincerity, and of course she knew he meant it. "I know. One of us is always sorry." She let her arms fall to her sides and let out a long sigh before looking into his eyes. Suddenly she remembered something he had said earlier that left an uneasiness in her mind. "It's not that I don't want you here, it's just easier when you're not. Well not easier, just…"

He saw her struggling to explain the dynamic that existed between them. "I understand."

"So are you going to tell me why you came?" She could understand why he wanted to keep her in the dark but it didn't mean she wasn't curious. Mostly, she was worried about him. If he was here it meant the reason was serious and until she knew details her mind would never be at ease. She tried to communicate this in her plea and when he looked back to her she could see he understood her need for information.

"I found the demon that killed Spike and followed it here." He knew his voice gave way to the exhaustion he had gained over the past few weeks. Unconsciously he brought his hand to his head, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, and let out a long sigh. "I'm going to kill it and then I'll leave."

He was tired, worn down, and she could read right through his tough demeanor. "You know I'm not going to let you do this alone?" She didn't expect him to answer, but she could see his objection to her proposal in his eyes. But she would not waver, he needed help, and she needed to be the one helping. "Angel," she started softly, "you can't fight this thing without help. And even if you think that you can, I'm not going to risk you by standing aside."

Her tone went from pleading to decisive and he could tell arguing would do little to change her mind. But, he couldn't shake the concern that crept down his spine as she offered her help. "This demon is dangerous Buffy. If you – you could get hurt. That is not what I came here for." He knew his rationale would fall on deaf ears and he watched as she turned away from him. Whatever they felt for each other was beginning to boil over as the thought of danger entered the equation.

She shook her head, with her back toward him. "All the more reason for us to work together." She didn't need to say anything more. Her words said it all, neither one was willing to risk the life of the person that they loved, so they would fight together and keep each other safe. "My place is down the road a bit. You can rest there until we have some kind of plan. Follow me." She didn't turn back, just started to walk down the dimly lit street. She didn't have to turn to know he was following her, she just knew he'd be there watching her back… always.


	2. Happiness

Paris was not at all how he remembered it. Of course nearly a hundred years would age a city, but the difference he felt had everything to do with Buffy. He never pictured her in Europe, but it suited her, now that she had matured. Something, he reminded himself, she did without him and something he would always regret not being a part of.

The building he had followed her too was small, but rose for many stories. Like the Paris he had terrorized years ago, the building was dark and broken, with chipping red paint that acted as blood pouring from the wounds of the past. She opened the door, casually throwing her bags into the front room, and spoke the first words between them since he had begun to follow her almost an hour before. "Come in." With that he followed her inside, up an undistinguishable amount of stairs into what was now the room he currently occupied.

His room was dark, mimicking the rest of the home, and his hand never reached toward the light switch. He had little interest in acquainting himself with this place, because he knew the details would haunt him once he left. After all… this was her place, and everything he came into contact with would sting with her presence.

He fell recklessly onto the bed hidden in the dark, back corner of the room, hiding his face in the soft sheets. However, he could not hide from his thoughts which inevitably lead to her. From the moment the sun rose until it set, Angel's mind stayed fixed upon her.

A knock came on his door shortly after the sun disappeared, as he assumed it would. He didn't bother to bring a change of clothes, planning to make a much quicker exit then now seemed possible, so he appeared at the door the same as the night before looking only slightly more uneasy.

She had, on the other hand, changed. Even with her hair up he could smell the lingering shampoo and the faint smell that would always be hers. An eternity passed with them stuck on their respective sides of the doorframe, and when he saw the obvious resignation cross her face he stepped aside mentally asking for her to come in. With newfound purpose Buffy crossed the room quickly, distancing herself as far as she could manage in the tight room.

"This is hard." Obvious, but honest. She kept her back toward him, still working to pack in her feelings. "Last night, it didn't feel like it would be this hard. But… but now, now that I've had all night to think about it… about you it's harder." She brought the back of her hand to her damp eyes, carefully clearing away an indication that he was breaking her down and slowly turned to face him.

Tortured as ever, he stood with the same slouch in his shoulders and ache in his eyes. "I could make it easier," he offered softly.

His simple words managed to strengthen her resolve. "You might as well stop there. I know what you'll say. You'll tell me that you'll leave… and like always the punch line will be that you'll be doing it _for_ me." She saw her words cut through him like a knife. Her anger was flowing through her veins, unbridled and impassioned. With a stiff breath she let her accusation sink in. "Honestly, it is as ridiculous now as it was then. You're _not_ leaving to do this alone because as hard as this is, it's a _hell_ of a lot easier then you dying."

"You don't know that I'd die, Buffy." It was meant as more of a comfort then a challenge, but she took it as the latter.

"And I won't risk it."

"And what about you? Why do you think I'm so adamant to do this alone? I _can't_ risk you… I **won't**." He stood straighter, spoke with more force, holding his ground. She had always been blind to her own mortality and he would be her eyes. The world could afford loosing him, but the world needed her… and more importantly he needed her to survive.

"This thing killed Spike," she felt her voice crack. Not good, not good. A sudden surge of memories flooded her mind and the strength drained from her body. Barley holding herself together, she let the tears fall down her cheeks unable to regain control. "I will hate myself every day for not being there to protect him… I don't think I would survive with your blood on my hands too." Seeing the bed near her, she let her legs give way to the weight of her sorrow and sat, silently sobbing never taking her eyes from his.

"Buffy," he stepped forward, but quickly stopped himself. It wasn't his place to wipe away her tears and it hadn't been for a long time. "There is nothing anyone could have done for Spike, it was too sudden, too… nothing short of knowing the future would have saved him."

"But I can save you."

"I don't need saving, Buffy. Either way someone wins. Even if I die trying to kill this demon, it's just means one less vampire. The world is indifferent to my existence but not to yours."

"Why not? Didn't you hear? There are hundreds of slayers now… being taught how to do exactly what I do. So what is one less slayer to the world now? Nothing… absolutely nothing." The tears still flowed freely down her face but had become hot with anger. As the last words left her mouth she saw his head snap up and his eyes stare into hers. Suddenly she was afraid of what he might do. Her words had been more dangerous to him then any demon could hope to be.

"There could never be a replacement for you. Ever. The world doesn't cherish you because you're a slayer, Buffy. Being a slayer is never what made you special… what made you important." He had fierceness in his eyes, but tenderness in his tone. He would never believe her to be anything but extraordinary and the realization that she didn't see herself the same way was unbearable for him.

"Right, the whole 'held my heart out for the world to see' thing." She meant to lighten the mood but the memory her words invoked only proved to further the gap between them. She pulled herself away from the past and resigned herself to the fate of her present… "You're biased, Angel. No one has _ever_ seen me the same way you do and no one ever could. The world can afford to let me go… it has twice before."

All too clearly he could remember what it was like to find she had died. Automatically he placed his hand over his heart, which if it were still beating would have burned with her words. "What about your friends? Xander, Willow, Giles. Your sister… they brought you back because a life without you was impossible, unbearable."

"Well, what about me? What about me, Angel?" She stood now, as a sudden sense of urgency crept under her skin. She found her feet moving her toward him until they were only inches apart. She craned her neck to look deep into his eyes. She knew her voice would give away her fears, but she no longer cared. "If you die I can't bring you back. I need you here, with me, whether it's a thousand miles away or two inches… I won't survive if I don't know that there is some chance for me to find real happiness. The kind of happiness I felt when I was seventeen… the kind I had when I was in heaven. If you die, then I'm condemned to hell. Please…please Angel."


	3. Wounded

He had pushed her away, again. Without hesitation, he had taken one last look at her begging him for reassurance and pushed her away. As she fell, helplessly to the ground eyes wide with shock he had turned to the door, his hands nearly crushing the frame as he attempted to keep himself from running back into her embrace. He could feel her hope shattering with each passing second and pausing only momentarily he told her he was sorry.

Always sorry, that was the story of his life. And like every time before it was never as painful to be the villain as it was with her. The rain was unrelenting, threatening to bore into his skin as he moved with quick steps farther and farther from the only happiness he'd ever known. He couldn't feel the tears that were sure to be streaming down his face, as they became lost in the downpour. Finally, he reached his breaking point, unable to continue, and felt the street meet his knees. He let his hands support him, pushing with all the strength he had left against the soaking asphalt. Head hanging, he let his thoughts overpower him until slowly he managed to stand.

The rain began to slow and his vision focused onto the river raging below him. He hung over the bridge's edge watching the water carry the storm away, swiftly and gracefully. If only he relied upon air to sustain him, he could end his pain so easily. He could join the river; let it take him away to a place where he couldn't hurt her anymore. He was beginning to understand that his curse had never been about depriving him of his own happiness but to be the force that denied Buffy hers.

"Therapeutic, isn't it?" Angel didn't need to turn to know who the dark voice belonged to. He kept his eyes focused on the river and his ears to the heavy steps of his guest. From the corner of his eye he saw him approach with unmistakable arrogance. Side-by-side they were silent for some time. Eyes fixed upon the rushing water he matched Angel's somber composure.

"And here I thought _I_ was tracking _you_." This produced a hearty laugh from Angel's still masked companion. Straightening slowly, Angel turned facing his guest. "My mistake."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You were doing a wonderful job," the masked figure turned sharply causing Angel to stiffen. Glaring, the figure placed himself directly in front of Angel, standing slightly straighter displaying his height which was a great deal more impressive than Angel's. "Great… until we reached here. Although, you've been preoccupied… trying to avoid the slayer. Must be hard… she is quite attractive."

A low growl escaped Angel's throat but his stance remained composed. He had seen Buffy… this demon had put his eyes on her, knew where she was, how to find her. "Are we going to reminisce or fight? Personally, the longer you keep talking the more I want to kill you."

"So soon to die. Is a continued existence that unappealing Angel?"

"Is this necessary?"

"No, I suppose you're right…" Suddenly and unpredictably the masked figure threw his fist forward catching Angel's jaw, throwing Angel into the opposite side of the bridge. Angel felt his body crack against the cold concrete wall. Pulling himself from the rubble, he stood to meet the demon. Rushing full force toward the demon he was once again outmatched, the demon's fist connecting with Angel's side, then his elbow with his jaw, his foot with his calf and Angel felt his body land hard on the still wet, shiny asphalt.

"Miserable," the demon hovered over Angel's now bloodied face, "I feel like you're not even trying. I was looking forward to a challenge… what a disappointment you've been." He bent beside a still Angel and placed his massive hand over his chest. Slowly the skin under the demon's touch began to burn and Angel let out a silent cry.

As Angel began to slip into unconsciousness he watched the demon hesitate to finish the job. Pulling his hand back as if he himself was burning the demon looked down at Angel with a puzzled look. Attempting once more to destroy Angel's soul the demon's flesh itself began to flame and his look of confusion turned to a look of fury. Standing he stared for some time into Angel's fading eyes. "A temporary problem. If nothing else I'll finish you the old fashioned way…" As if caught off guard by a noise in the distance the demon turned toward the city peering through the curtain of rain, smirking slightly before he disappeared into the darkness.

She had heard the crack of concrete even through her own sobs. The slayer in her pushed her towards the door, forced her legs to carry her towards the sound which was unmistakably created from conflict. Her feet pounded into the street as she ran. Suddenly she saw a dark figure lying against the side of the bridge. Instinct had her running full force toward the unmoving man.

When she reached her hand out to touch the figure, she felt her heart speed up and her skin tingle as if she had just been shocked. "Oh God… Angel," she said his name softly and gently turned him to face her. Her heart dropped in fear that she had been too late. Slowly, however, he opened his eyes to look directly into hers and relief spread over her whole body.

Struggling he pulled her hand towards his unbeating heart. "I'm sorry, Buffy."

"Shhh… sorry can wait. We need to get you inside. Can you walk?" She was desperate to move him from the pounding rain. She was willing to carry him the whole way if she had to, as long as he was safe.

"I think I can manage," he tried to smile to reassure her. He could tell she thought he'd be leaving her again, but in a way neither of them was ready for. With her strength to guide him, he stood slowly to his feet. He could feel the worry radiating off of her small frame. He looked to her saying, "It's just a couple bruises, Buffy. No poison arrows or ritual knives."

Relaxing a bit at his attempt to comfort her Buffy pushed them towards shelter. "Funny." She meant to sound light-hearted but her voice fell flat as she thought about how long he'd manage to stay with her this time before he decided to leave. A small voice asked her if he would even bother to say good-bye. In any case, he was hurt and he needed her so she'd be there for as long as he would let her be.


	4. Always

If only his ability to heal extended to a broken heart. Angel had stayed up all night, staring through this window. Her window, in her house, on her bed. Okay, maybe not hers in the strictest sense, but all of this belonged to her and just as the night before he was having a hard time ignoring her presence in the tiny room. It had become his personal Buffy prison.

Silently, she had nearly carried him here, hesitating slightly before leaving him to recuperate. It hadn't taken long before the pain in his heart overwhelmed the dulling pain of his body. The masochist in him was wishing the pain in his bones would remain, that it could distract him from how painful it was to miss someone like he missed Buffy and be in the same house as them.

He had been so lost in his own thoughts he didn't hear her open the door slowly and walk in slightly. "How are you feeling?" Her casual remark caught him off guard causing him to jump slightly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you." She looked worried that perhaps he wouldn't want her here. Unfortunately for him it was just the opposite.

"No, it's not your fault. I was… distracted." He was staring at her. Had she asked him something else? He was having a hard time collecting his thoughts. "Oh right. Um… I'm pretty much as good as new. Vampire healing and all."

"Yeah, I remember how that goes." How could she forget? She practically relished every time she got to play nurse for Angel. Those were the times when she could be the one protecting him and comforting him, instead of the other way around. That first night they had kissed, before she knew he would heal so quickly, she had touched him and felt the electricity between them as she bandaged his ribs.

Seeing her become as easily lost in her own brooding, Angel desperately searched for something that would distract them both. "Buffy…" he waited for her to look up at him, when she did he didn't miss the tired look in her eyes, "you should get some rest."

"I'm not that tired." Why was she lying to him? She knew he could read right through her. "I meant… I'm not in the mood to sleep." Honestly she didn't want to sleep, cause then she'd miss out on him leaving again and apparently she was a glutton for punishment.

"Right… okay." He was unsure of where the conversation should lead at this point. Luckily for him Buffy took over.

"Who did that to you?" She meekly pointed to the ever disappearing wound on his chest. "The demon that killed Spike?"

Angel merely nodded. He looked away from her questioning gaze. He didn't need her to worry that he couldn't dispose of this demon alone. But, judging from last night she'd have a lot more ammunition for the case of teamwork.

Almost on cue Buffy looked to him saying, "Well, looks like it will take both of us to stop him."

"No, it won't. Last night…"

"What? Last night doesn't count. Don't be ridiculous Angel."

"It doesn't."

"Why not? He nearly killed you. Don't you get that?"

"He _nearly_ killed me. But he didn't. He tried and he failed."

"That doesn't mean he won't finish the job next time."

"I wasn't exactly on my a-game last night Buffy. I can take care of this myself. Haven't we gone over this already?"

"I seem to remember this conversation ending with your leaving. I never agreed to stand aside. I'm doing this with or without your blessing."

"Buffy, please, stay away from this demon." Angel could tell they had reached a standstill once again.

"Why? I'm the slayer. Demons are what I do."

"Not this one."

"Angel, stop with the cryptic. It's not very convincing."

"Fine. Since you're so eager to know why I can't have you be a part of this… last night, when he found me on that bridge, he told me he had seen us together. Which means he saw you."

"So… Angel that isn't –" She stopped when he stood up and walked directly in front of her. She felt her breath catch in her throat when he placed his hands on her shoulders. The electricity igniting a fire in her heart. When she managed to look up into his eyes, she could feel that hers were damp.

"Buffy," he nearly chocked out her name. He breathing became heavy as he paused to wipe the stray tears from her cheeks. "When I knew that he had seen you, that he knew where to find you, how to find you it was like he had staked me right there. This fight is meant for me… so that I can save you, you can't be involved."

He sounded like he knew what was going to happen, like this was a story playing out exactly as he had read it. "What do you mean?" She struggled to focus as he gently pulled her hands into his.

"Buffy, when that demon placed his hand over my heart something made him stop. I'm meant to be his final conquest."

"Wait right there." Buffy stepped away from him pulling her hands away to cross her arms over her chest. She suddenly felt cold. "What do you mean conquest?" She could feel her voice cracking.

"What I mean is my life is destined to end with this demon's." He hesitated faintly knowing the reaction this would prompt in her. Yet, she stood completely still.

"Says who?" She tried desperately to cling to her anger at his words but found the despair quickly overwhelming her. Unable to bridle her fears any longer her posture fell, her shoulders slumped, and her tears escaped creating rivers down her face.

Angel moved to comfort her but she stepped away. He was aching for her, dreadfully wishing she would let him cure her of her tears instead of create them. "Buffy…" He was pleading with her to let him hold her.

"I can't- I just…" Her words were coming between gasps for air. She felt as if she were drowning and at the same time like she was burning. She was miserable, and she could see he wanted nothing more than to touch her. But she knew his touch would only make her pain worse. It would only remind her of what she might lose. "Please…"

"I love you, Buffy." He was through with following his head. It was time for his soul, his heart, nearly every fiber of his being to take over. "I'm not sure if you know that. I've never stopped loving you. I'm sure even if I tried I couldn't. You are the biggest part of me. I'll do whatever it takes to stay with you forever, but I won't risk you. If I have to do this, if I have to die for you to live then there is no question. I'm doing this, and I'm doing it alone. Because I love you, more than I think you'll ever know. Always." He was staring into her, through her, right to her soul. He was aching to reach out to her, but he'd wait… he'd sit there all night for her to reach for him.


	5. Pancakes

She had told him to leave and hadn't neglected to let the door slam on his way out. She regretted it as soon as she turned the lock. But her anger was holding her together and no matter how sorry she might be tomorrow, tonight it was keeping her alive. She turned, leaning heavily against the door, finding her legs weakening as she slid to the floor. Cradling her head in her hands she felt the tears pour into her palms. Ironically she thought how easily this vampire could end her life with little more than a look. Fortunately for her this was the last thing on Angel's mind. Instead he had resolved to lay his own life down to protect hers, and this approaching future was suffocating.

When she finally managed to crawl into her bed her tears had subsided and she gave way to a night full of wishful dreams and horrible nightmares. She'd seen her share of both in her years as a slayer. She wasn't sure what she'd wake up to, but Angel cooking pancakes in her kitchen had been a longshot. And yet, there he was, in his staple white shirt and worn leather pants flipping the golden brown cakes on her seldom used griddle.

"I forgot you cooked," she sounded as tired as she felt and was thankful he didn't turn to examine her disheveled appearance.

"I've had a lot of time to pick up certain skills, although… I never really enjoyed cooking until I got to cook for you," even he knew he was bending the boundaries they had set up to avoid painful memories and maintained his focus on the pancakes.

She needed a change of subject, "Did you stay all night?"

"Yeah, I hope that's okay." He knew she was worried that he may have overheard her cries, which he had, and that she would need to reassure him that it wasn't his fault, even though it was. He had beaten himself up, perfecting his brooding, thinking about all the ways his presence in her life had caused her unnecessary pain.

"Of course. I didn't mean to be so cold last night, I just…" she let her words trail off as he turned his gaze to her.

"Please Buffy, you have nothing to apologize for." He let his frustration wash over his words. How could she possibly imagine their present circumstance to be in any way her doing?

"But it might make me feel better if I do, I shouldn't have pushed you away."

"But the thing is you _should_ have. Besides the fact that I'm a vampire, I'm also an arrogant ass that only manages to destroy your life every time I show up."

"I think you're being a bit dramatic Angel. My life would fall apart with or without you around. You just always show up to help pick up the pieces."

"In that case you're being generous. I've been anything but beneficial to your life."

"Please don't take us back to this," she felt the anger she had quieted last night once again bubble to the surface, "It's not your job to decide what you are to me."

"Okay then Buffy, tell me… what good has my existence done for you?"

A dark cloud grew above his head and suddenly she could smell the burning pancakes. "The pancakes Angel."

He simply stared at her in confusion, "What does that have to do-"

"They're burning."

He turned to his now ashen colored breakfast, just another example of how miserably he failed when it came to deserving Buffy.


	6. See You Again

He had managed to put out the tiny fire before the smoke had a chance to set off the alarm. He heard Buffy mention something about opening the doors and windows, warning him about the sunlight that would pour in as a result. His once perfectly golden brown breakfast was now little more than black coal.

"Do you need any help cleaning up?" she whispered behind him.

"It's my mess; I'll take care of it." He felt helpless enough already. Grabbing the skillet he turned to see her standing arms crossed in front of the sink. He could tell his words had an unfortunate effect on her and she was ready to pick another fight. The thing was, if this was going to be his last day with her, fighting was on the bottom of his list.

"Do you have to be so stubborn about everything? It's just dishes. It's not like your risking my life or anything if I want to help." She reached for the skillet, tactfully avoiding his touch, and pulled it from his hands. The frustration poured out of her as she nearly broke though the iron while she scrubbed the dark stains away.

"Buffy" he knew his pleading would fall on deaf ears and before he could finish she was throwing daggers toward his heart once more.

"Stop Angel. You can't apologize anymore. I'm numb… inside and out. I'm not sure if you have noticed but I haven't felt much of anything lately… until you decided to go off yourself. Now all I'm feeling is pain. So your apology… it won't work. I'm immune. So just- Ow!" She felt the warmth of her blood fall down her finger tips. A gash worked its way from her wrist to her finger. For a moment it almost felt nice… the warmth and the sting, and for just long enough she let it bleed.

He was already there watching her gaze at the deep cut in the palm of her hand. He even thought he saw a smile appear on her face but he quickly shook it off and reached for a paper towel refocusing his attention on her cut. Ignoring the instinct to shy away from her touch, he reached for her hand pressing the towel to her cut. He could feel her resistance but he held on refusing to let her pull away. Keeping his eyes on her palm, he saw the deep red color spread over the towel. The fire that he was feeling burn beneath his skin, however, wasn't caused by the scent of her blood but by the feeling of her hand in his.

She obviously misinterpreted his ravished appearance because again she tried to pull her hand from his saying, "Don't torture yourself, I can clean myself up."

"Don't be silly, Buffy."

"Seriously Angel, I know how hard you work to maintain a 'healthy' diet. No need to be a masochist. It wouldn't be fair for me to put that sort of temptation in front of you."

He released her palm, more in shock than in defeat. "You are absolutely right about that, Buffy, but the temptation has nothing to do with your blood."

She thought she saw a brief glimmer of disgust flash across his features. Finishing the bandaging of her hand she followed him into the living room. Careful to sit as far from him as possible, she tried to decipher the meaning behind his most recent confession. "I don't understand."

"I haven't been tempted by the smell or even the taste of your blood since we first kissed at the Bronze. Honestly Buffy, how you could even imagine I would do anything to put you in danger is beyond me. It may be in my nature to crave the blood of a slayer but keeping you safe outranks… a lot actually."

"Then what did you…"

"Your blood might be easy to ignore, but the smell of your hair, or the feel of your skin, the taste of your mouth. Those things are… unbearable. I would consider myself a strong person, but you have the power to make me unreasonably weak."

She was blushing; she could feel the blood rush up to her cheeks. If she hadn't already been sitting she would have fainted. He had kept his eyes away from her while he admitted things he had worked so hard to keep from her. Then he unleashed the full fury of his eyes on her, "If it meant that… well you know, I would spend an eternity in hell. It would be more than I deserve."

"Don't say that." Her words sounded so small against his mighty confession.

"It's the truth. Of course, I have to restrain myself. I know what it did to you the first time, and that isn't worth anything… not even a thousand perfect nights."

"Maybe if we could work out the part where I have to send you to hell it would be easier." She was trying to break the tension that had built up. All of the sudden she felt like he was saying goodbye and she was far from ready to let him go.

He felt himself laugh weakly at the tragedy that was now their past. "Maybe."

"I don't want you to leave again." She took a ragged breath in, and resolved herself to tell him everything. She saw him ready to defend his decision but she stopped him, "Just let me get this out, before I can't. When I died," she paused, regaining her slowly slipping composure, "I wasn't in hell, like I had told you. I-I think I was in heaven."

"I knew. Of course I knew Buffy. How did you think I managed to survive with you gone if I didn't know you were where you deserved to be?" He felt the pain of her death resurface as he pulled his hands into fists.

"What? You knew? Well, I mean- Why didn't you say anything?"

"What was I supposed to say?" She could hear the defeat in his voice as he recalled what her death and her return had done to him. "Willow called and said you were alive. Of course I knew I needed to see you and you wanted to see me. There was no hesitation for me; I was in my car within minutes. Then you drove up, I could tell, I just knew they had pulled you out and you didn't want to leave. Then when you lied saying you were in hell, I knew you didn't trust me enough to tell me. I wasn't going to force you, not after everything."

"I did trust you. But I couldn't tell you, because- well lots of reasons. I knew you still thought you'd never earn the same fate and the last thing I felt like doing was rubbing your face in it. But the biggest reason was what heaven was for me. I knew if I told you… well I couldn't tell you. It was too fresh, too real."

"Buffy… tell me, please."

"You. Obviously, heaven was you. You in the sunlight, you laughing, you holding me, I was there with you and I was happy, then I was digging from my own grave and you were far away again. What was I supposed to do? I knew if I told you, you would push me away because here nothing has changed. Here… we are destined to be apart."


	7. Bleed

Here, we are destined to be apart…

_Here, we are destined to be apart…_

Her words had him slowly stepping away from her. Of course she was right. And they both recognized the agonizing truth to her admission. Even in the same room, they now felt miles apart, and the sudden closeness they shared was shattered. They had learned over the years how to keep a safe distance, how to ignore the reactions lying just beneath the surface, but all the careful rules they had set had nearly been disregarded.

Buffy took in a ragged sigh, "It's never going to be easy with us, is it?"

He knew she didn't expect an answer but he couldn't help the words as they slipped through his lips, "No, it won't."

She reluctantly looked from her still bleeding hand to his face and instantly wished she hadn't. Defeat was etched in every aspect of his stance.

"I'm sorry, Buffy." He was about to reach out to her, but she ignored the attempt and turned back toward the dishes.

"Don't be," she let indifference roll off her and absentmindedly finished washing the rest of the dishes as the blood continued to seep from her hand. "I'm going to finish up in here. There is a hospital down the road. You're probably hungry so you… you should probably go."

Of course he knew exactly where the hospital was. He smelled it when he had first arrived. And Buffy knew he had already been there, but he needed the time alone as much as she did so he left quietly walking back toward the river because he wasn't hungry… at least not for blood.

"I forgot how good you were at brooding."

Buffy's words pulled Angel from his thoughts and he gave her an apologetic glance before returning his eyes to the running river. She slowly walked to stand beside him, keeping enough space between them to avoid the temptation to touch. He ignored her obvious attempt and reached his hand toward hers. Instinctively Buffy matched his movement and interlocked her fingers with his. Maybe seconds or minutes passed before either one of them felt the need to speak.

"Sorry, I must have lost track of time. I didn't mean to worry you." Angel squeezed her hand just a little tighter and let the warmth of her skin melt into his.

"Do you always apologize this much, or do I just bring it out in you?" She had tried to sound light-hearted but it came off too sad.

"You bring a lot of things out in me that wouldn't normally be there," he knew this would surprise her, and he hoped it would distract her from her current mood.

"Really, like what?"

"Well, the most obvious answer would be the champion. I couldn't save any souls until I found my own and I found it in you. You didn't just bring out the champion in me, Buffy. You gave me a reason to… fight against everything I am."

They still carefully kept their gaze away from each other, focused on the water passing inches in front of them.

"What the least obvious?" Her voice was breathless, still stunned by his recent words.

He chuckled to himself, despite the somber mood. "The human." No longer able to restrain himself he turned to face her forcing her to do the same. He closed the remaining space between them and allowed himself to touch her hair, run his hand along her cheek, and feel the pulse of her heart beneath the delicate skin of her neck. He paused at the scar he had left so many years ago. "There are so many reminders of the monster, but with you I don't feel undeserving. I can hear your heart, feel your heart and it doesn't matter that mine isn't beating. I don't need to breathe, but you still take my breath away. You've always been the only one who can make me forget about the monster underneath."

"Angel," she could only manage a sigh as she leaned into his touch. Carefully she reached her arms around his neck and crushed herself to his perfectly sculpted frame. Hiding her face in the crook of his neck she memorized every part of him, the smell, the feel, and the way his arms encircled her waist. "Please, don't do this."

Holding her even tighter he forced the words out, "I have to. And you have to let me."

"How can I? I mean, could you let _me_ fight this alone?"

"I don't know… probably not. But this is my burden, and if it saves you it's the most worthy cause I could be fighting for."

"I don't know how to let you go. I won't know how to stay away."

He felt her tears soak through his shirt and pulled her away. He leaned toward her and softly kissed her forehead. She let the gesture wash over her and then almost instantly felt her composure fall into thousands of tiny pieces. She reached for him and fiercely planted her lips on his. Her hands wound around his neck snaking their way into his hair. He kissed her back with equal passion pressing her ever closer. They let everything they had been delicately holding back rush to the surface. There was fire behind this kiss and it ignited them both. Eventually he ended the kiss, allowing Buffy to breathe once more. She held her eyes shut tightly, too afraid to open them and find the last minutes just an illusion. When she managed to gain the courage, the empty air in front of her dropped her to her knees. He had gone and their kiss had been his final goodbye. She let the waves of despair rack over her body as she cried for the last time over Angel.

He was running. Even as fast as he was he couldn't escape the sound of her sobs when she'd realized he had gone. But he kept running because the farther he was from her, the better off she'd be. He'd accepted long ago that there would never be a moment when he wouldn't be leaving her to save her and her earlier confession only reinforced the decision he had to make. _Here, we are destined to be apart._ The tears that slowly fell from his tired eyes were the only evidence that he wished she was wrong.


End file.
